The World in His Arms
by maiybeen
Summary: Dean thinks Castiel was murdered by Raphael, and now he wants revenge. Do not contain slash.


"If this is true, I swear to God, I'll go after the motherfucker and rip every part of his bodyout, starting with his dick!" Dean shouted, his voice echoed off the walls of Bobby's office. He held the edges of Bobby's desk with both hands, his fingers pressed down so hard that they started to lose color.

"Dean, you really want to start a war with archangels?" Sam asked, his eyebrows so drawn together that they could form one.

"If that's the only solution, so be it."

Bobby got up from the old armchair in which he sat and stood so that he was facing the older Winchester. He looked at Dean, trying to analyze his sanity.

"Do you know how stupid this sounds?"

"Whatever, I'll kill those bastards. Each one of those beings from Heaven. To hell with this bull, they are no different from demons."

"And how do you want to do this? Invoke the archangels and stab them like hams?"

"I don't care. If they killed their own brother, Castiel, how do you think they will treat us humans? Do you think they'll give us candy and hugs?"

"That's suicide, boy!"

"You want to avenge Castiel, I understand. I also liked him, but Dean, if not even an angel managed to win this war, how do you think we -"

"You don't want to help me, great," Dean cut Sam off. "Nice to know I always can count on you, both of you." Dean turned his back and left the house, without looking back even once. He was determined, and wouldn't let anyone change his mind, because hell, they couldn't. It wasn't a matter of revenge, he wanted justice.

Angels let him down. From the beginning, when he discovered that they existed, he waited for angelic beings with halos and cute wings, playing harps and dancing in the clouds. He didn't expect these fools dressed as humans killing each other, and caring the minimum for what would happen to the Earth. Selfish, all of them.

_Except one_.

xxx

He opened his eyes slowly, trying to get used to the intense light coming from above his head.

'_The only illumination in the place,' _he noticed.

All around he could only see as far as the light allowed him to see; a faded bucket, some torn bags, spread, probably because of some hungry dogs. He seemed to be in some kind of alley. He heard passing cars and horns not too far from where he was. He was probably close to some downtown, but which one?

Castiel's whole body hurt. There was an intense pain that he knew if he tried to get up, he would faint. He felt liquid running down his belly, and knew the situation was getting worse with every passing minute he stayed where he was. He patted his coat up around the abdomen and then put his hand in front of his eyes: blood. He didn't know how long his vessel could stand, much less if he, Castiel, could survive without his grace. It had been ripped out, and he had no knowledge of what happened to an angel without it.

_Anna survived when she lost her grace._

But she was not seriously injured, with several injures across her body. How long, could an angel, now humanized, withstand the rapid loss of blood?

He was at his limit.

Castiel laid both hands on the concrete above him and tried to stand up. He felt a shudder in his body, dizziness made the world circle around him. He then stumbled, falling to the ground.

xxx

He knew that the whole idea was stupid. Damn, he hates the fact that Bobby is right: this is suicide. Should he die for this?

_Well, I died so many times, didn't I?_

But something told him that if he died this time, he wouldn't return. God would not give him another chance, and Sam wouldn't make pacts with demons, because no one would accept, and, of course, Castiel wouldn't take him out of hell, because ... he's dead. The ugly truth.

_Do I wish to die?_

'_No_,' he said mentally, nodding. If I kill at least one archangel, I have already done good for humanity. Killing douches, that's what he did all his life.

He had killed demons, witches, vampires, werewolves ... archangels were not very different from these. Sometimes he had thoughts that angels were even worse. They were more powerful and they fucking change their minds constantly according to their interests. And if they had the courage to kill even their brother, what could they do with humans? With Earth?

Dean doesn't care. He could die, but if he did, hell, he would take a good amount of angels with him.

xxx

"Oh, God help me, another drunk," muttered a burly man in his sixties as he crossed the alley, carrying garbage from his bar to the dumpster.

He gave a quick look at the man lying on the floor with his eyes closed, apparently asleep. He was well dressed, unlike the guys who frequented his bar. He was wearing a trench coat, black pants, and shiny shoes - or was, but it was all hidden by the dirty alley.

'_Probably found his wife with another man_,' the fat man laughed, and threw the rubbish into the dumpster, the sound of glass smashing against metal echoed through the alley, while the drunken man opened his eyes.

Castiel looked around and tried to reflexively reach his knife that was always safe in his pocket. But all he got was a sharp twinge in his ribcage. He was certain some were broken. He stayed still, careful not to risk puncturing a lung.

"Sorry to wake you up, man," said the old man. He approached the angel lying on the ground. "You ... son of a bitch, is that blood?"

The man looked terrified, looking at all the blood spread around Castiel, on his clothes too. The old man couldn't stop staring at all the injures on his arms, legs, and stomach.

"Don't worry, man, I'll call for help," he said, while he took his cell phone from his pocket and pressed the keys.

xxx

Dean put weird ingredients on top of a metal canister, and then took his box of matches from his pocket and lights one, throwing it into the mix ahead. The crackle of the fire is the only sound in the barracks. He stays a few seconds, staring at the embers, until the sound of wings cut his attention.

Balthazar materializes in front of him, and before Dean can move, the angel stretches out his arms and snakes his hand against the neck of Winchester, pushing him to the nearest beam.

Dean coughs. He's trying to pull air into his lungs while squirming, and trying to get loose. But it is a strong grip on his neck, the hands of the angel shakes his airway, and Dean does not know how long it will stay there until he faints. Or worse.

"I always thought you were stupid. But I didn't realize how much," Balthazar spits out, reaching with his free hand to his knife in his pocket.

Dean tries to kick him at all costs, he tries to get rid of the pressure on his neck, but all he gets is the angel turning the knife into his chest.

"Give me a reason to not kill you."

Dean growls.

"Ah yes, how rude I am," Balthazar loosens his grip, enough so Dean can answer, but still remains trapped against the iron girder on his back.

"Castiel."

"Oh, this will be good."

xxx

"Quickly, put him on the stretcher. All together! 3 ... 2 ... 1, lift!"

Everything happened so fast around him. All he knew was that he was being taken and charged, with a number of hands touching him, several people around him, wearing blue.

The red lights flashed continuously from the ambulance, and lit up the whole alley. He had something in his neck that prevented him from moving his head. What he could see was the inside of what looked like a van full of equipment around him, and two EMT's sitting next to him, giving him all the necessary assistance.

"We are loosing him!" he heard someone yell, while the other quickly ran to the automatic defibrillation machine.

"Clear!"

The men looked apprehensively at the monitor by their side until his heartbeat was back and stabilized.

xxx

"Why weren't you there?" Dean asks, massaging his neck. He sits on a wooden box, probably dropped there by some drug dealer.

Balthazar gave a derisive laugh before answering. "Do you really think I'll get my hands dirty with them? I want distance from this mess. I'd rather spend my time with women and drinks."

"Now that's something we can agree on," Dean mutters. "But Cas needed help, I figured that you were going to fight with him, as fucking usual."

"Of course I'm on Castiel's side, but frankly, I'd rather not mess with archangels, if you know what I mean."

"You were?"

"I was what?"

"You were on Cas' side. He was killed," says Dean, his voice coming out so low, almost like a whisper.

"Impossible."

Balthazar vanishes, raising a cloud of dust, the sound of his wings once again filling the silence of the barracks.

"You bastard! Why are you running away?" Dean shouts.

xxx

"I don't believe I'm doing this," Balthazar grumbles, and walks through a long white hallway, dodging nurses who run hastily, carrying clipboards in their arms, their feet slipping on the floor.

After a few steps, he finds him.

Castiel was being reanimated, his body lying on a stretcher, his chest exposed, while the nurse is pushing the paddles of the defibrillation device, forcing him back to consciousness. But he did not respond to the repetitious process.

"Screw it," says Balthazar. He enters the emergency room without difficulty, going so fast that no nurse is able to intercept him.

He goes near the bed, ignoring the nurses that are pushing his shoulders back and yelling at him. He extends his hand as much as he can and touches the forehead of the angel. He feels the energy going down his arm and getting to the point that his fingers touch Castiel's skin. Gradually the angel opens his eyelids, and the intense blue eyes focus on Balthazar.

"What?" he hears the doctor asking.

_We don't have time for this_.

"Balthazar?" Castiel whispered. Again he presses his fingers on Castiel's forehead and they disappear.

xxx

"Balthazar, you son of a bitch!" Dean explods furiously, unable to contain himself. Fuck, he was tired of angels and all that nonsense. Why had he asked for help form that douche bag, anyway? He should have foreseen that Balthazar would not help. Nobody would help, because nobody cared about Cas' death . Nobody cared about the future of humanity. Fucking morons.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean felt a pressure on his neck, and went out.

xxx

He could feel the moist breeze bouncing against his face. His clothes were moving with the wind and the sand under his feet was dancing with the rhythm of the air. The characteristic sound of breaking waves was coming from his right side, and he turned his head about to see the sun set behind the sea.

_Beautiful._ _Thank you, God_.

"Are you okay?" Castiel looked up, diverting his attention from the sea, to the point where his eyes were focused on the angel in front of him. The angel had messy blond hair, his wrinkles more marked, as if troubles had aged him.

"Yes, I guess," Castiel replied. He hit his clothes, trying to remove the sand that had accumulated. His trench coat was no longer tan, and he had become a mixture of blood and dirt. The angel's appearance just got worse the further down you went. His clothes were torn, but his wounds were healed, thanks to Balthazar. But still, one thing was missing.

"My grace," he murmured.

Balthazar scratched his head, apparently uncomfortable with the question that the angel had raised. "Yeah, well, we need to talk."

xxx

"Wake up."

Dean woke. His cheeks burned from repeated slaps he had received. He tried to regain consciousness, and finally his assailant came into focus.

Raphael.

"You gotta be kidding me," Dean said, shaking his head as if trying to withdraw from a nightmare.

He was sitting on a wooden chair, his thighs, legs, and hands bound with thick ropes, forming regions without blood flow.

"Shit."

"I bet you've gotten used to being tied up, haven't you? Well, it's your business, after all," Raphael said, walking from one side to another, carefree.

"I have killed many idiots like you, too." Dean said. The angel smiled broadly, enjoying the ferocity of man.

"No doubt."

"You know what, bite me, Raphael."

His face was relaxed, almost like he was enjoying the situation, but the truth was that he was terrified. Nobody knew he was here, except Balthazar, and that bastard would not come back. Not now that there was an archangel, ready to kill anyone who crossed his path.

Raphael stopped walking and turned his heels. He got in front of a small wooden trunk with different adornments around the container. The angel unlocked the trunk, and upon opening the lid an intense white light broke into the barracks, lighting the way like a small part of the Sun.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Raphael asked, holding the light in his hands, carrying it carefully to Dean. "Can be yours, if you want."

"What is it?" Dean asked, his eyes enchanted by the beauty of that light source, so mesmerized that he could not look away.

"Grace, Dean. An angel's grace."

xxx

"No, you wouldn't dare."

He could not believe it. His own brother had sold him to one of his greatest enemies. Balthazar would willing give all his brother's grace to Raphael, simply by self-interest. Balthazar managed to get Castiel out of Heaven as soon as his grace was taken from him.

But should he be surprised? He'd been deceived so often by his brothers, why couldn't it happen again?

"Why?"

"You put too much faith in us, Cas. You should have abandoned this ship when you had time. It's over," said Balthazar.

"No, it's not."

"Cas, you -,"

"Shut up and listen. Mankind puts their last hopes in God and in us, however they do not know if we really exist or not, because they have faith. And that is what the angels have lost."

"You just lost your grace and already have completely forgotten your origins?"

"No. I forgot my origins when I met the Winchesters. Now I know it's worth fighting for," Castiel replied, closing his fist and punching Balthazar in the face, the force knocking the angel in the sand.

"Are you crazy?" Balthazar asked, taking his hand to the area, and moving his jaw, making sure there were no broken bones in the region.

"I have found my salvation."

Castiel jumped on the fallen angel, delivering blows to the head of Balthazar, aiming for its most vulnerable points. Balthazar kicked Castiel in the stomach, getting away for a few seconds, just enough to recover himself.

"Do you really think you can beat me without your grace?" Balthazar laughed.

"No. But you will help me find it, because you know where my grace is. You owe me"

xxx

"This is a joke, right? Is this supposed to be funny in Enochian?" Dean asked, biting his lips as a faint smile appeared on his face, recalling the moment when Castiel told to him and Sam about the joke.

"No, Dean. You can be an angel."

Dean chuckled, not for happiness, but scorn. Raphael had to be crazy, right?

"You know, I like being human, but thanks for the offer."

Raphael lifted one of his eyebrows, before proceeding.

"You don't understand, you may be entirely angel, immortal to some extent. No more human weaknesses. Fully ... Perfect."

"I'm ok with human weaknesses. Sex, that's pretty much my weakness, and I don't regret it. I don't want to be a freak Robocop with wings."

"Freak? I'm offering you a gift! You would be great as an angel, Dean Winchester. You would be able to do great things."

"I thought God was the Santa Claus from Heaven."

"My father is absent, as you might know. Now, I'm sure your mother taught you not to be ungrateful, right, Dean? Before she burned, I mean."

"Do not speak about her, you son of a bitch!"

"Well, well, where are the manners? If you don't want it, I shall force the grace into you."

Raphael quickly crossed the space that separated him from Dean, the light still safe in his hands, emitting more light at every step he approached the hunter.

The grace seduced him, so beautiful, attracting his attention. He tried, but he couldn't look away. It was like he _knew_ that light, and like the grace knew him as well.

"Curious," the angel murmured, his eyes wide open. The grace moved gracefully, as if leaning toward Winchester, asking him to take her in his hands and become his possession. Become his grace.

_His._

The flapping wings broke the moment. "Cas!" Dean screamed, while he looked to the corner of the barracks. His well known friend began walking clumsily, then Dean understood why. Balthazar was right behind, pushing Cas' back, like a cop behind a prisoner. His lips formed a slight smile, seemingly proud of some accomplishment.

"So, you changed your mind, after all," said Raphael, turning his head to the new guests.

"Yes. I brought him to you, brother," Balthazar said, grabbing Castiel's arm, showing him as his trophy.

"I see. Bring Castiel closer; I want him to have a good view of his grace transforming his boyfriend." Raphael turned and stood again in front of Dean.

"His grace? What the hell is going on? I thought you were dead!" Dean couldn't stop screaming, he was astonished at seeing the angel in front of him, intact. No wounds, and he could even doubt that the angel had actually participated in a war, if not for the fact that his clothes were completely torn and bloodied.

"He will be, Dean. Soon. First, we finish this. Now …"

Raphael leaned forward, pushing the grace toward Dean. The grace squirmed in his hands, as if a magnet attracted it to the Winchester. A few inches and it would touch Dean's chest, and then the transformation would be complete.

_It would be that easy?_

Dean would rather not know. He tried to get rid of the ropes, but they were very well trapped, preventing him from moving. He looked pleadingly at Castiel.

"Wait," Castiel whispered, just his mouth moving, and only Dean saw that.

An agonized scream came from Raphael's mouth, while a knife penetrated his shoulder and the blood ran down, dripping on the trousers of Winchester. Raphael quickly recovered from the scare, turning his body and face to his opponent.

"Touché," Balthazar said, kicking Raphael's chest.

Raphael vanished, leaving the grace floating in the air. Castiel held it with his hand, bringing it to his chest. The barracks were invaded by a new source of light, engulfing Castiel's entire body with a weird light that was an intense yellow. Dean had to close his eyes, to prevent the visual explosion that could blind him. Gradually the light intensity decreased, and he could open his eyelids, though all he could see were black spots that clouded his view momentarily.

He felt the noose in his hands relax, and finally he was free.

"Balthazar, DON'T!"

Dean turned his head in time to see Balthazar behind him, his knife in his hand, and then pain. He felt an excruciating pain in his stomach and he put his hands instinctively there. Blood. Dean collapsed on the floor, unable to move.

He closed his eyes, while he heard a fight going on. The clink of knives and steps being dragged against the floor, and then, silence.

"Dean?" He knew that voice.

"Cas, where's that motherfucker Balthazar? I'll grab his neck and then –,"

"He's dead."

Dean opened his eyes, slightly, until he found the blue eyes above him, concern written on his face.

"Shit. Damn. My wound. Is it that bad?"

The angel nodded.

"So c'mon, heal me, man! This really hurts."

Silence.

"Cas?"

"I'm afraid I can't heal you."

Dean turned his head, at what he'd heard from the angel. "Can't heal me? What the heck are you talking about?"

"Dean, I'm trying. I don't know what's going on. Nothing's happening, and I can't carry you to the hospital…I, maybe I stayed away too long from my grace." Dean coughed and blood ran down his mouth.

_I'm not feeling pain anymore. This can't be good._

"Ok, let's practice some human stuff. You have to stop the bleeding. Put your hands over my stomach and press them, strongly," he murmured, his voice coming out weak.

Castiel did it. Blood seeped between his fingers, while he looked down at his hands.

"You're doing great, just...don't leave me."

"I won't."

They stayed that way for some time. Both trapped in their own thoughts. Castiel knew that Dean didn't have more than a few minutes. Dean's vision was blurring, and his body was exhausted.

'_I just need some sleep_,' Dean thought.

"Why that son of a bitch hated me so much?"

"Who?"

"Balthazar. Why the hell he did this?"

Cas kept his mouth shut.

"Cas…how is Heaven?" asked Dean, trying to forget the pain.

"You already were there, Dean."

"I know, but I was with Sam. Now I'm all by myself."

"You have me."

"Well, I was hoping to get rid of you, but now I see that's impossible,"

A little smirk showed on Cas' face.

Castiel was still deep into his task, pressing both hands, regardless of the intense amount of blood still dripping from Dean's clothes.

"Are there female angels? Nice ones? I don't believe in that angel's don't have genders crap."

"I believe so."

"Awesome." Dean coughed, blood fell from his mouth and stomach. His body was losing color. Castiel removed his hands from the wound and pushed Dean gently, trying to make him sit up while he put his arm around the hunter, holding him.

"Don't tell this to anyone, do you hear me? Or I'll haunt your ass."

"What?"

"This weird moment, it's really gay. And tell Sam that…he's a jerk." Dean closed his eyes and dangled his head to the right.

"Dean?" Cas asked, leaning his body forward, trying to feel Dean's breath. It was weak, but still there.

Dean opened his eyes again and spent some time in silence, just staring at the angel, until a shy smile came across his lips.

"Protect my little brother for me"

And then Dean closed his eyes again, this time for good. His chest rose one last time, and then he stayed still in the angel's arms.

* * *

Thanks, guys, for reading another fanfic made by me!

*laffertyluver23 thank you SO much for beta my story! You're a awesome! :)


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